The Ferret and the Stag
by samlover14
Summary: After the War, all the Death Eaters are being rounded up and sent to Azkaban.  Does Draco Malfoy deserve this fate?  Of course not.  Harry takes responsibility for him, because, after all, Dumbledore taught us everyone deserves a second chance.  Drarry!
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: I don't have much to say about this. Summary says it all. I just feel like I needed an introduction. Use flippendo on the switch, and I'll meet you at the end. Oh, wait, I'm not Quirrell from the Sorcerer's Stone Computer Game...  
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><p>Harry Potter looked over the heads from his seat in the Wizengamot chamber. He sat between Kingsley Shacklebolt, the Minster of Magic, and Mr. Weasley. The last time he had been in this chamber, he had been 15. It was now only 3 years later, but it felt like a lifetime. So much had happened in such a short time.<p>

"Who's next?" Harry sighed. Arthur shuffled his papers.

"Rodolphus and Rabastan Lestrange," he replied.

"Do they even need a trial?" Harry said. "Guilty as charged."

"They did not participate in the Battle for Hogwarts," Kingsley said.

"They tortured my parents," Neville piped up from directly behind them. "I'm with Harry. Guilty as charged." All members of the Order of the Phoenix and Dumbledore's Army that survived were invited to sit at the trials for the Death Eaters.

"Is that it for the day?" Harry said. He had grown tired of all these trials.

"Just one more," Kingsley said, as Rodolphus and Rabastan were taken away from the courtroom, still pledging their allegiances to the now-deceased Dark Lord.

A tall skinny blond boy, no more than 18 himself, was escorted into the courtroom. He sat down in the single chair. He shot nervous looks around the room as the chains on the chair sprung to life and imprisoned him.

"Malfoy?" Harry asked, bewildered. "He looks like hell." In truth, his normally flawless hair was a wreck, and his clothes were in shambles. "Has he been in Azkaban since the war?"

"No," said Mr. Weasley. "He has been quite cooperative with the new Ministry, in fact, except one detail."

"Draco Malfoy." Kingsley's voice rang out over the courtroom.

"Yes, sir," Draco's voice was timid and rather unlike his normal haughty swaggerous tone.

"You are charged with being a Death Eater, a supporter of Voldemort, and with concealing the location of other known Death Eaters," Kingsley read. "Namely, your father, Lucius Malfoy."

"I don't know where he is!" Draco insisted. "He left the country after the battle! I haven't heard from him, I don't know what he's doing, I don't know anything!"

"Do you swear to that?" Kingsley said, surveying him carefully.

"Yes," Draco said. Harry watched from the seat beside Kingsley. He couldn't believe Draco Malfoy was on trial for being a Death Eater. Draco and his mother had saved him many times during the battle.

"Do you deny that you were, in fact, a Death Eater?" Kingsley asked.

"Well, I–" Draco began.

"This is ridiculous," Harry interrupted, standing so that he may be heard. "Draco Malfoy is no more a Death Eater than I am. I will personally vouch for him." Draco was stunned. He looked up from where he had been staring (his shoes) to Harry, whom he hadn't viewed properly in ages. Kingsley viewed Harry for a moment before continuing.

"All in favor of trusting Mr. Potter's judgment?" Kingsley asked. Every hand in the courtroom went up. "Cleared of all charges, on the merits of Mr. Potter. Court adjourned." All the members of the Wizengamot, as well as the many other wizards filed out. Draco Malfoy was still sitting, shell shocked, in the chair, though the chains had relinquished their hold on him. Harry was the last one to descend from the seats lining the walls.

"Are you just going to sit there?" he asked Malfoy.

"No, of course not, I–" Malfoy began. Harry waved him into silence.

"We could never have won without you and your mother's help. So thanks," Harry said, sticking out his hand for Malfoy to shake. Malfoy eyed it warily before taking it. Harry pulled Malfoy to his feet and walked with him out of the courtroom.

"Thank you," Malfoy finally mumbled as they reached the top of the stairs in the Lobby.

"They didn't have a case against you," Harry said. "The only thing they've got is that hideous tattoo." Malfoy cringed slightly at the thought of the permanent brand he'd allowed himself to be subjected to – that had made his parents (and especially his aunt Bellatrix) so proud at the time. "I have my own fair share of marks," Harry said, reading the look on Malfoy's face.

"It's fading," Malfoy finally said. "Every day it gets lighter. In a year or so, it'll be completely gone."

"Here," Harry said, handing Malfoy an envelope. "It's your entire file. I thought you might like to read it." Draco pulled out the first page and read.

**Name:** Draco Malfoy

**Heritage:** Lucius Malfoy (father), Narcissa Black Malfoy (mother)

**Birthdate:** June 5, 1980

**Siblings:** None

**Childhood:** Affluent

**Home:** Malfoy Manor, Wiltshire

**Appearance:** Eyes, gray. Hair, white blond. Skin, pale.

**Wand:** Hawthorn and unicorn hair, 10 inches, reasonably springy

**Broom:** Nimbus 2001, current

**Interests:** Quidditch, Dark Arts, himself

**Skills:** flying, potions, Occlumency, faking injuries, finding where you hurt and rubbing salt in it, whining to Daddy

**Other:** Not a murderer

Draco almost laughed. "Who did they get to write this rubbish? Weasley?" Harry laughed as well.

"He helped. When Kingsley wouldn't allow 'selfish little git' or 'enormous prat' to be included anywhere in the file, he got rather annoyed and stormed out." They stood there in the London evening air.

"Why did you save me? You could have just thrown me to the dementors, and be done with me forever."

"Do I look like the type to let innocent people rot in jail?" Harry shot back. Draco shook his head. "I have something for you, unless you're too much of a prat to want it." He fished Draco's wand out of his pocket and presented him with it. "Hawthorn and unicorn hair, 10 inches, reasonably springy." Malfoy took it slowly, as if not believing it.

"Thank you," he whispered.

"Just as long as you don't try to hex me too badly," Harry laughed. "Come on, lighten up. It's a great night." Malfoy looked around and had to agree. "Where have you been staying? I know Malfoy Manor is in shambles." Draco shrugged.

"My room's alright," he mumbled. Harry was shocked.

"You look like you've been through hell and back," Harry said. "Why don't you come to mine, and I'll get you fixed up, and then we'll see about fixing your house."

"It's alright," Draco said, quietly. "You don't have to."

"No, I do," Harry said.

"The chains on that chair only come to life if you're guilty. I'm guilty," Malfoy said, suddenly. "It's my fault."

"If you hadn't gone along with him, he would have gotten someone else to do it," Harry said. "None of what happened is–"

"Yes it is!" he insisted. Harry sighed.

"Dumbledore told me – well, he told me the other week, his portrait, you know, at Hogwarts – he told me that Death Eaters – like your family, Bellatrix, in particular – are incapable of loving. Tell me, Draco," Harry said. Draco instantly looked up at the mention of his first name. "Tell me. Can you love?"

"I…I…" Draco thought, and couldn't remember ever loving anything. "I had a ferret when I was a kid. I killed it, though, after that tosser turned me into one."

"Alright," Harry said. "There is a true test. You have your wand now. Can you produce a Patronus?"

"A Patronus?" Draco asked, as if he'd never thought of doing such.

"Yeah," Harry said. The streets were deserted, but he cast a disillusionment charm around them for safety before muttering "_expecto patronum_". A silvery white stag erupted from his wand, danced around them, and then disappeared into the night. "You have to think of something happy, remember."

"_Expecto…patronum_," Draco said, softly. His face flushed bright pink when a ferret erupted from his wand, and instantly vanished.

"You're a good person, Malfoy," Harry said. "I know it. Shall we?" Draco nodded, and Harry grabbed his arm, and they Disapparated.

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><p><strong>AN: This story is awful. I can't believe I'm letting people read it. Oh well. Leave me reviews, pl0x?**

**Love,**

**Samantha/samlover14/ LilyLuna**


	2. Chapter 2

"What _is_ this place?" Malfoy said, pretentious as ever.

"Well, it was once the home of the last surviving member of the 'Noeble and Moste Anciente House of Black'," Harry said. "Something I believe you belong to. But now it belongs to me."

"Oh," was all Draco could manage. They walked inside. Harry had made no attempt to make the place livable – it looked exactly as it had when he, Ron, and Hermione were using it as a hideout the year before. Mrs. Black's portrait started screaming as they passed. Harry sent an absent-minded silencing charm in her direction, and she shut up.

"It's not much compared to what I'm sure you're used to," Harry said. "But, in the event that your lovely mansion is not standing, it'll do."

"Thanks," Draco said. "But I'm alright on my own, you know."

"I know you are. But I thought you might like some company, considering your father is nowhere to be found, and your mother is–" Harry said, but then stopped, realizing he had no idea.

"She went with Dad. And I don't know where," Draco said.

"I didn't ask," Harry said, making a calm down gesture. "There's a shower in there, and some nice clothes Hermione bought me that I absolutely detest, so I'm sure you'll love them. I'll be down in the kitchen, whenever you're done." He left Draco to his own devices.

"Thank you," Malfoy said once again, when he entered the kitchen.

"Stop thanking me," Harry said. "If I didn't know better, I'd say you were off your rocker."

"That's a fair assessment," Draco said, glaring around the room. "I must be, to be here, talking with you, of all people."

"Who else have you got?" Harry's voice rang clear around the kitchen, echoing off the pots and pans. "Who else have you got left?"

"No one," Draco mumbled, unnecessarily.

"Exactly," Harry said. "So, let's start over. Hi, I'm Harry Potter."

"Draco Malfoy," Malfoy said, looking up at Harry's face for the first time since entering Number 12, Grimmauld Place. "Nice to meet you."

"Pleasure is all mine," Harry said. Just then, the pair heard shouts from the hallway.

"Harry? HARRY POTTER! Are you here?"

"In the kitchen!" Harry called. Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger burst through the kitchen door, clinging to one another happily.

"Sorry we missed the trials, mate," Ron said.

"S'all right," Harry said. "How'd it go?"

"Found them easily," Hermione said. "Brought them back with us, lifted the charms, it's like nothing happened." It wasn't until then that Hermione and Ron noticed Draco. "Oh. Are we interrupting?" Hermione said, awkwardly.

"No, no," Draco said. "Go on. We were getting to the dull part of conversation anyway."

"What's he doing here?" Ron hissed at Harry.

"Be nice, Ron," Hermione said. "He doesn't have anywhere else to go. And he did save our lives." Ron rolled his eyes. "We'll see you in the morning, Harry." With that, she grabbed Ron's arm and Disapparated. Draco scoffed.

"Before the war, she modified her parents memories and she sent them to Australia…so that they would be safe," Harry explained. "Because they're muggles, you know."

"Seems smart," Draco said, once again looking at the ground. "Then again, it _is_ Granger. She always was smart. Did she put you up to this?"

"No," Harry said, firmly. "This is all me, I swear. Come on, let's have a drink, shall we?" He poured them both glasses of Firewhiskey. Draco took his glass and drank with relish. As he drank, he got much more talkative. Harry kept their glasses filled.

"Alright, alright," Harry finally said. Both boys were laughing their arses off. "I've got one. How come no one ever said to Voldemort, 'Oi, how come you haven't got a nose?'?" Draco laughed very hard.

"You don't think we did?" he laughed. "How do you think Theo and I got these scars?" Harry roared with laughter, as Draco pointed to thin lines that looked like wand scars along his nose and cheeks.

"Okay, okay, how about this. Hermione, you know Hermione, right?" Draco nodded, vigorously. "When we were kids, first year, second year, she had a _huge_ crush on you."

"Unreal," Draco said.

"True story!" Harry said.

"Well," Draco said, contemplating this, between giggles. "It's not that I can't see what Weaselby sees in her. More of a 'just wait until my father finds out about this' sort of thing."

"He's nowhere near here," Harry pointed out.

"And I'm not interested in her," Draco said. "It wore off. That whole heroine thing is not attractive."

"Personally, I've never liked being the hero," Harry said, noting the serious turn their discussion had taken.

"What are you talking about? You're Harry Potter. The Chosen One. The Boy Who Lived More Times Than Anyone Cares To Keep Track Of," Draco said, still laughing himself silly. "Anyone'd give their left arm to be you."

"I don't fancy it," Harry said again. "You can have it, if you'd like."

"Right," Draco said. "I'm the bad guy, remember?"

"You're not the bad guy!" Harry insisted.

"Yes, I am," Draco said, slipping back into that tone Harry hated more than anything else. "I've got the hideous tattoo for it, you said it yourself."

"The only thing you're guilty of, is being an insufferable prat," Harry said. "Just drop it." Draco did as Harry asked. "I think it's about time for bed. We can go see about fixing Malfoy Manor in the morning."

"You mean…you mean, I can stay here?" Draco asked, timidly.

"Of course," Harry said. "Why wouldn't you?"

"You aren't afraid I'm going to kill you in your sleep?" Draco asked.

"You're not a murderer, Draco," Harry reminded him. "And I'm not exactly sure what that would accomplish, considering my word is the only thing keeping you out of Azkaban. And I swear to Merlin, if you say 'thanks' one more time, I may change my mind." Draco swallowed the thanks he was about to say again. He stood and Draco followed suit. When they got to the second floor landing, Harry pointed to the room across the hall from his own, where Draco had taken a shower earlier that night. "You can sleep there. This is my room here." He pointed at his own room.

"Oh, um…Good night then," Draco muttered, awkwardly, going into his appointed room and shutting the door. Once in the safety of this room, he cast a locking spell on the door, and _Muffliato_ on the boundaries, so that Harry couldn't hear anything he was doing.

"Alright, Draco, focus," he said to himself, collapsing onto the bed. "He wants to be your friend. That's cool. You're in no position to pass up friends. The dumb git is the only reason you're not sitting in Azkaban right now. Stay cool." He ferreted around in the drawers for some pajamas, eventually finding some silk ones. He contemplated them for a moment. After all, Harry had been nice enough to take him in, give him food, clothing, a shower. Malfoy Manor was just rubble now, but it was true Draco had been living there. Ferrets loved rubble, and he was no exception. After putting on the pajamas, he lay down on the bed, but found it utterly uncomfortable to be sleeping on a bed. He didn't even hesitate before becoming his Animagus form, a white ferret. This was how he'd been living since the war, curled up in what was left of Malfoy Manor, completely abandoned by his parents. Malfoy the ferret jumped into the dresser drawer he'd left open, turned around three times, and promptly fell asleep, happy as a clam.

Harry, on the other hand, couldn't shake the feeling that Malfoy was up to something, what with his constant thanks and his insisting that he wasn't good. "Wait just a half darn minute," Harry said to himself. "Did you ever consider that perhaps he's just thankful, and doesn't think he deserves it?"

"Why, no, Potter, I'd never thought of that," Phineas Nigellus said, lazily, from his portrait. "Although, I'm fairly certain no pureblood relative of mine ever needed to thank you for anything."

"Then it might interest you, Professor, that Draco Malfoy is currently not in Azkaban on my word," Harry spat.

"I see," Phineas said, that lazy tone of his _really_ starting to irritate Harry. "If he wasn't guilty in the first place, why did he need your saving?"

"He's not guilty," Harry said, as he'd been saying for weeks now. "That doesn't stop the Ministry from locking people up. He's a good person, and I know it. I can feel it."

"Aha," Phineas said. "Well, if you don't mind, I'll be getting back now."

"Hey," Harry called after him as he was about to leave for his other portrait.

"Mm?"

"Could you ask Professor McGonagall to send me a letter for this year? I want to go back and finish school," Harry said.

"Mm," was all Phineas had to say as he left. Harry donned his pajamas and lay down in his bed. He'd never quite gotten used to living in this big old house by himself, and, on occasion, thought about asking Hermione and Ron to live with him there, but always decided against it. With Draco in the house, though, it didn't seem quite as large.

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><p><strong>AN: Phineas Nigellus is by far my favorite character to write. Reviewplzthnxbai?**

**Love,**

**Samantha/samlover14/LilyLuna**


	3. Chapter 3

In the morning, Harry yawned and stretched. After a week of sitting trials at the Ministry, he was glad to have a day off. He dressed haphazardly, and went down to the kitchen, and was extremely surprised to see Malfoy there already, having a pleasant conversation with some old tosser's portrait.

"Good morning," Harry mumbled to Malfoy.

"Morning," Draco replied. "This is my great-great-great-grandfather, don't you know?" Harry looked up.

"That's Phineas Nigellus," he said, blankly. "Phineas, what are you doing down here?"

"Having a conversation with my great-great-great-grandson," Phineas replied, coolly. "Much worthier of the name of Black than–"

"Sirius was a great man," Harry said, now on edge. He'd been arguing with the ex-headmaster for years on the subject. "As was Regulus. And Tonks and Andromeda."

"Of course you would love Andromeda," Phineas said. "Well, Draco, I see the old killjoy is here. We can finish later."

"Alright," Draco said. Phineas walked off out of the kitchen and up to his own portrait.

"How'd you sleep?" Harry asked, yawning again.

"Great," Draco said.

"I thought after a spot of breakfast, we might see about fixing your house," Harry said, beginning to fix breakfast. "If you want to."

"What if I didn't want to?" Draco asked.

"Well, you're more than welcome to stay here," Harry said. "I can't stand living in this big empty house by myself. Was thinking of getting a pet, like a… I dunno. I really can't think of an animal I'd like to keep. But I thought you'd like to go back to your palace. I never did get to see very much of it."

"Better that way," Draco mumbled. Harry flipped the eggs he was cooking on the stove. "It's not a very nice place, Malfoy Manor. Lots of bad things happened there."

"I'm not saying I blame you," Harry carried on. "I wouldn't like it there, I doubt, were it still standing." There was a silence as Harry cooked. Then, Draco spoke.

"We're mortal enemies, you and I," he said. "Right from the beginning. Why are we pretending to be friends?"

"Thought you might have turned over a new leaf," Harry said. "Was I wrong?"

"I've lived our life too, Potter," Draco said. "I tried to get you expelled more times than I can count, tried to kill you a few, and almost managed it too."

"You're not a murderer," Harry reminded him again. "You're 18 years old, barely. You weren't going to kill Dumbledore, and you were never going to kill me."

"Uncannily like Dumbledore, you are," Draco said, scowling at the plate of food Harry set in front of him.

"Yes, I am. Glad we got that straightened out," Harry said. "Eat." Draco did as he was told, his first real meal in over a month. "And if you don't want to stay here, you don't have to, but the offer will always be there."

"Thanks," Draco mumbled. "Or am I still not allowed to say that?"

"Maybe once a day," Harry said, lightly. "Good for my ego, you know."

"Like that needs stroking," Draco said, under his breath, but Harry heard him and laughed.

"No, I suppose it doesn't." They ate in silence for a few minutes. When they were finished eating, and Harry had done the dishes by magic, they were saved the hassle of coming up with another topic of conversation, by the post arriving. A Hogwarts eagle owl had arrived with Harry's letter.

"What's that?" Draco asked.

"I'm going back to Hogwarts this year, to finish," Harry said.

"Even after the minister himself offered you a job as an Auror?" Malfoy said. "Seems like a Granger kind of thing to do."

"She convinced me I should do it," Harry said. "Do you want to come back too?"

"I already went 7 years," Draco said. Harry held out an envelope reading _Draco Malfoy_. "Course."

"McGonagall doesn't miss a beat. Dumbledore's girl." Draco skimmed his list.

"Potions, Transfiguration, Charms, Defense Against Dark Arts," he snorted, "Herbology, oh this is just lovely."

"What do you plan to do after Hogwarts anyway?"

"Nothing I could possibly learn from those classes," Draco replied.

"You're being a prat again," Harry said. "You might want to see what else is in that envelope." Draco turned his envelope upside down and out dumped a small badge. It read the letters "HB" entwined with a silver snake.

"No," Draco said immediately. "I can't be Head Boy. I'm a Death Eater. A bad guy. I was failing everything last year, I just got passed along because I'm…pureblood." His voice fell on the last word.

"Tom Riddle was Head Boy," Harry pointed out. Draco snorted. "You deserve a second chance. Dumbledore gave one to Snape, and I'm giving one to you. Do you want it or not?" Draco contemplated this for several minutes, turning the Head Boy badge around and around in his fingers. "Draco?" Draco's eyes snapped up to meet Harry's at the sound of his name.

"Alright," he finally said. "Hogwarts. Head Boy."

"Yeah, just wait til your father hears about this," Harry joked. Draco laughed.

"Granger's got Head Girl, I suppose," Draco said. Harry nodded.

"She doesn't know it yet," Harry said, glancing at the clock. "She will soon, though."

"Why didn't her precious Weaselbee get Head Boy?" Draco asked.

"If you can picture Ron as Head Boy, you're mental."

"Alright, that's fair," Draco said.

"You don't have to pretend you're not completely shallow around me," Harry said. Draco sent him a glare.

"What about dearest She-Weasel?"

"Ginny's not coming back this year. Funny enough, you don't need NEWTs to play Quidditch." Draco snorted.

"Quidditch."

"Would you like to play Quidditch again?" Draco shrugged.

"The whole pitch burned to smithereens during the battle."

"I fixed it," Harry said.

"Doesn't matter."

"Lemme rephrase that," Harry said. "You're Slytherin Quidditch captain, if you want it. If you don't want to come back, it's fine."

"No!" Draco said. "I want to start over. I want to be friends. I want that second chance."

"Do you want to come to Diagon Alley with Ron, Hermione, and me?" Draco contemplated this. "They will be nice, I swear." Still, he contemplated the list. "I'd decide cuz it sounds like they're here." A ruckus was being made in the hall and Mrs. Black's portrait began screaming again. Hermione sent a silencing charm at her, and she shut up again.

"Alright," Draco said, finally, as Hermione and Ron burst into the kitchen.

"Harry!" Hermione squealed. "Look! _Look_! I'm Head Girl!"

"Of course you are, 'Mione," Harry said to her. "Top witch in our year, and half Gin's year isn't even coming back."

"Did you get Head Boy, Harry?" Ron asked, excitedly. Harry snorted.

"As if," Harry said. "Do you really see me wandering around, reprimanding first years? It takes a certain caliber of wizard to do that sort of thing." Ron spotted the badge still in Draco's hands and snorted.

"Certain caliber of wizard, indeed," Ron scoffed. Draco was on his feet in a second, Ron had his wand drawn in another.

"Stop it," Hermione said, holding the end of Ron's wand away from Draco. "We did promise." Ron lowered his wand and sank into a seat at the kitchen table, far from Draco, who also sank back into his seat.

"Guys. I know this will not be easy, but the insufferable prat has some good in him. Even if he doesn't want to admit it," Harry added to the way Draco had opened his mouth to protest. "I don't want to play mummy here, so, just, like, get along, and stuff. And that's the last time I'm going to say it." Silence rang across the kitchen, until Hermione finally broke it.

"So. Diagon Alley?" she asked, looking at Draco and Ron's bowed, surrendered heads. Harry was the first to move. He went to the fireplace to look at the state of his floo powder.

"Soo, we're gonna have to Apparate," he said.

"Meet you there, Harry," Hermione said, reaching for Ron's hand. They both Disapparated at once.

"Er…" Harry said, uncertainly, casting a look at Malfoy.

"I can Apparate, all right?" Draco said, rolling his eyes. He Disapparated as well, and Harry followed suit.

**A/N: Review please? Right, I don't own HP or Drarry would already exist? Ritethnxbai.**


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